


Together, they jumped

by elawless



Series: Together, they jumped [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Gladiator AU, I tried to be historically accurate, M/M, Slow Burn, andrew is too smart for neil, neil is a badass, no exy but lots of fighting, so many breadcrumbs, there is so much sexual tension tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 14:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18054368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elawless/pseuds/elawless
Summary: Neil josten was raised Nathaniel wesninski, the son of the Exocutioners for the Moriyama empire until his mother stole him away before a deathmatch against Riko Moriyama.No matter how far he runs or how many times he changes his name, he will never be able to outrun his past. With the help of a league of assasins and gladitors up north, Neil once again may have a fighing chance at life.





	1. running

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys so i wrote this as a part of the AFTG Reverse BigBang and I am so grateful to be a part of something so huge and so fun. The work was inspiredd by the amazing art by @hi-raethia on tumblr and thank you so much to my beta @selflessambition8 for keeping me sane. So this will be part one of a series because I got too involvedd with the story and want to continue on. Posting schedule is still in the works but for now, I hope you like it. Thank you to Gabriella for organising this whole thing too. ok i am going to stop rambling, enjoy! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> f.y.i this was originally gonna be a 5k or less fic so the first few chapters are shorter pls dont hate me I promise I make up for it later <3

     The morning had wagered to be more eventful than the entirety of Nathaniel’s life combined; that included the horrors that marked his past and skin. For his whole life, Neil had been bred to be a gladiator, ruthless, fast and unbeatable. That future his father, Master of the Wesninski mercenary clan, fell short when his only son started showing signs of being short in stature, without the brawn others in his class exhibited. Nathaniel insisted on outsmarting his opponents rather than facing them head on with brute force. Like the rest of his clan, blades were his choice of weapon, but due to his thin and wired frame, Gladiuses and Sicas proved too heavy for Nathaniel and he opted for more dagger-like armaments such as a Pugio or other fine daggers. He could easily conceal and use these for attacks in close combat for a one-hit strike before fleeing to the other side of the arena to recover and assess where to best strike next on his opponent.

     Just before Nathaniel started his final match as an underage, and moved onto the middle age group of gladiators ( age 13-18), his mother grabbed him by the arm in the catacombs before dragging him to a dark corner away from the guards for a hurried conversation.

     “Mother, what are you doing?” Nathaniel challenged.

     “Shh. We don’t have time now son” she snapped back. “This isn’t just another match today, this is a death match, no more restraints or safety nets. Today you are to be matched to Riko Moriyama and you will lose. I cannot lose you; we are leaving” she explained.

     This revelation left Nathaniel stunned and at a loss for words while the information ran through his mind in disbelief. He had only a few moments to think about the certainty that today would be his last day on earth should he choose to not run and that his deliverer of that fate would be Riko Moriyama.

     Riko Moriyama was the most promising of gladiators of his age. He was a part of the Moriyama Clan from the East that had easily descended on Western Europe and taken over the vast Roman Empire, something many had thought impossible. The empire the Moriyama’s constructed consisted of two parts, the Absolutes and the Executioners. The former were the firstborns, rulers held in a regard of a likeness to gods. The latter were the rest of the family, second-borns at best and were in charge of the military forces, and in times of peace or points where the empire remained unchallenged, the gladiator games.

     Of course the empire had remained unchallenged since the public beheading of Cesare, his family and government in the middle of the streets of Rome. Following the massacre that ensued, wiping out almost all natives of the Italia, a Colosseum was erected outside the city limits to hold games to pick off the remaining inhabitants of the population, allowing only the strongest to survive.

     That is where Nathaniel’s family came in. A brute group of mercenaries came from the north bearing the name Wesninski. A name whose meaning was kept secret but promised ages of service. The family quickly rose in the ranks of the Moriyamas, officially becoming the personal bodyguards to the Absolutes and Executioners, unofficially they were the deadliest assassins the world had ever seen. This was half the family Nathaniel came from, the other half was as a result of a peace offering the last of the Romans had given to the Moriyamas. Maria Hatford, an assassin from with heritages from Hispania and Britannia, caught in an assassination attempt, was allowed to live only if she married the chief of the current leader of the Wesninski clan. She accepted and had only one child by him before refusing to continue the line of murderers.

     To her satisfaction, despite the extensive training and brutality towards her son, he remained capable of peace and reason outside of such treatment. Unfortunately, Nathan thought it would be possible to beat and torture his compassion away, explaining the burns and scars that covered his skin head to toe. His face, the only thing spared, remained flawless, the crystal blue eyes and fire-red hair branding him enough as a part of the Wesninski line. The only tarnish the public considered to be attributed to his appearance was not the scars that traced every inch of his body, instead it was the olive skin they were upon. To have dark skin was a disgrace in the Moriyama empire as it indicated you were not a pure blood from the Wesninski line from the North, or the Moriyama’s from the East who boasted the fairest of skins.

     “Mother I cannot leave,” Nathaniel started, “Father will surely find and kill us.”

     Maria smacked Nathaniel across the cheek so hard it burned, “of course I have thought that through, we are heading north and west, away from this place. Are you coming or have I wasted my time and the value I put to your life?”

     Still startled from his mother’s hit, he shook his head frantically in agreement and followed her through the winding tunnels underneath the gravel where his blood should be soaking through.

     Maria, as though she had planned this escape down to the second, opened a door away from where any spectator would be to three horses saddled. The first one was a tall black horse with jet black hair and on it was a pale rider with the same deep mahogany eyes his mother possessed, his uncle Stuardo. Nathaniel had only heard stories of the family his mother had come from, ruthless like his father’s but impossible to trace their work  Next to him was a similarly tall chestnut horse tied to another smaller but heavy-set auburn-coloured horse.

     “Maria it has been too long. I trust you were not followed?” Stuardo pressed.

     “Of course brother, I have not lost my touch,” Maria responded with a smirk before she stiffened again and began mounting the taller of the two open horses.” This is my son Nathaniel. You remember him from our past correspondences I trust?” Nathaniel took up occupancy next to his mother.

     “Of course.” Stuardo responded. At that moment, the booming voice of the announcer resonated from inside the arena setting the match to begin in a few moments.

     Riko was making his appearance to a match where he would be shown up. An act close to treason in the adult leagues. In the underage leagues, killing was not allowed in any circumstance, it was merely to test skills and rank them into class. From there in the middle age leagues, killing was only permitted in the absolute finals and only amongst those wishing to rise into the ranks of those who already showed promising careers in the adult leagues. Only those desperate for recognition who had been discarded to the middle groups would dare to take part in it. Stars like Riko wouldn’t have to risk his life until the adult leagues undoubtedly. Nathaniel’s death would be illegal if it had occurred today, but overlooked because his name was still held in lower regard than Riko’s.

     Stuardo whipped his horse into motion, Maria and Nathaniel following close behind. “Christo, Maria we need to go. Our family has moved since you left and now that you are out I can tell you the location. We are headed to Hispania.”

     Maria nodded in agreement, a faint smile crept across her face. Nathaniel had few moments in his memory he could recall his mother ever smiling or showing a hint of happiness. Her expression almost always remained guarded and on edge.

     “Nathaniel, while I trust your father holds as much favor to you as he does to us, I hope you do not hold any distaste for the requirement that your name change, if not a few times to avoid him ever tracking you down?” He asked.

     “It is not my name, it is his. My own is only Abram” he responded, curious to what name he would be given.

“We will try Stefan for the trip and change it again when we get to the rest of the familia? does that sound fair?”

     “Of course” Stefan agreed and their journey to Maria’s family began.

 

    


	2. compound

     They headed north through the night and the next day, unable to stop in fear the Executioners’ militia would catch up to them, undoubtedly spearheaded by Nathan Wesninski himself. They made time for short stops to water the horses and allow short moments of rest for them while they remained on lookout for any sign of someone spotting them and providing information to Nathan. Should he find them, Stefan would be put to shame with two options: either killed or his training would be likened to that of daily torture with an automatic jump to the adult leagues where he would surely be killed. Stefan was quick with a blade, but this teachers, Lola and the faithful accomplice Romero proved that. Rare was the day he would return from training unscathed.

  
     In one night Stuardo led them to a safe house in a village just to the west of Genua on Italia’s border.

  
     “We will rest here for the night” he began when they trotted up to a small stone house on the outskirts of the village. Someone was already inside the building, smoke was rising out of the chimney and the smell of fresh lamb stew cooking had Stefan’s mouth watering.

Maria visibly tensed at this realization. “Can we trust them” she whispered?

  
     “Of course, this whole town owes their fortunes to our family. They will not sell us to them; they all have vowed to die rather than give up our family’s name and information. Have faith Maria or have you none left?”

  
     “No, it died when I was taken from you”

  
     Stefan knew his life was born out of his mother’s misery, but hearing his mother talk to her brother the entire trip about how she finally felt free again and seeing her show even a sign of comfort in her smilemadde him wonder if she was turely a happy person before she was forced into the life he knew. He thought this even if that same smile disappeared when she turned to scold him for a misstep he didn’t even know he was making.

  
     “Stefan, tie up the horses and stay back here. Make sure they get enough water and the tack is taken off and cleaned before you come inside,” Maria ordered before dismounting her horse and pointing to the rundown stables a few hundred meters away.

  
     “Yes, mother” Stefan responded. After they headed inside Stefan grabbed the reigns of all three horses and gingerly led them into the stable. When he was finishing hanging up the tack and feeding the horses what he could find in the stable, he heard the unmistakable snap of a twig from behind him.

  
     Before he had time to even think about his actions, Stefan had one of his daggers out and at the neck of his victim he had pinned to the floor.  
What he did not expect was the sound that came from it.

  
     A shrill of giggles erupted from the unarmed girl he was on top of. Unable to fully trust anyone, Stefan kept his weapon ready but removed it from her neck. He rocked back on his haunches allowing her to sit up and explain what possessed her to sneak up behind him.  
“Explain yourself,” he probed, still skeptical despite the young girl’s continued laughter.

 

     “I came to see if you needed any help. I thought the two in our house had been our only visitors but when I heard you were out here I wanted to see who the mysterious third person was” she conceded.

  
     “Well it is me and I don’t see why seeing who I was couldn’t wait until I came inside. If I needed help, I would have asked for it. Also I was almost finished by the time you arrived, why continue inwards?”

  
     A smirk played on her lips, more mischievous than the ones he or his mother wore with something else he couldn’t quite read. “Because you are cute, of course” she responded.

  
     Stefan was speechless. He now understood why the girl acted so comfortable with her position under his body, however he took a moment to think if he shared whatever she was feeling and arrived at the same answer he got any other time a girl would show interest in him, void of emotion. The only thing that came from expressed interests like the girl who was still underneath him, was curiosity. That curiosity never really won out in the end, only reared its head but eventually faded.

  
     Quickly getting up and moving away from the girl, Stefan started for the door. She quickly got up and followed him, determined to not let the conversation die. “My name is Bree, what is yours?”

  
     “Stefan” he replied, praying she would give it up.

  
     “Well, Stefan, where are you headed?” she persisted.

  
     “Hispania.”

  
     “Ooh, I have always wanted to go, but no one leaves this town so I rely on the stories of travelers to satiate my curiosity of the world. Got any good stories?”

  
     That was a loaded question. Of course he had stories. However, they were not ones any normal person would want to endure, let alone hear. He settled with a simpler answer wanting to eat whatever was inside and sleep as long as he could before they had to leave again. “Not any that would interest you.” He crossed the threshold and immediately caught the wild-eyed attention of his mother and her brother.

  
     “Pity,” she pouted. Nathaniel didn’t pay it any mind while he grabbed a bowl off the table of the soup and thanked their host for her hospitality. She was a comely old woman, and there was no indication of anyone else being in the house besides the five of them. Nathaniel guessed the missing family members were off leading small groups of resistance like his uncle, or dead, like many people that were natives to this country.

  
     After about a half an hour of small talk, neither party willing to give or ask for information that may incriminate the other should someone be caught, all three went upstairs. Stuardo took the bed closest to the door, Stefan and his mother shared the small bed closest to the wall and in moments, he fell asleep.

  
     The next morning Stefan had the the task of tacking the horses and getting them ready before they left at dawn. He also had the good fortune of having Bree follow him to the stables. He blocked out almost all of what she was saying, surrendering the occasional nod or grunt to get up pretenses that he was in fact, listening to her.

  
     Once he had finally finished his work and began to turn around to retrieve his mother and uncle from the house and possibly have some of what was leftover from breakfast he was met with a surprise. The girl had positioned herself for a kiss. Too stunned to react, he merely kept his eyes open in shock for the time it happened and noticed a figure approaching the door. The unmistakable mahogany shade of his mother’s hair caught his attention and he pushed Bree away immediately.

  
     “What are you—“ he started.

  
     “Get out,” his mother spat through gritted teeth. Stefan stayed, uneasy from the posture and expression his mother held.

  
      As soon as Bree left he started, “Mother I—” but was met with a slap across the face. She grabbed his hair and pulled him up to meet her face, tearing chunks of his scalp out in the process.

  
     “We could die at any moment Abram and this is what you are doing?” She spat at him and hit him again when he opened his mouth to protest that it wasn’t his fault and he stumbled back onto the floor.

  
     “Mother I—” he started.

  
     “I don’t want to hear it,” she grabbed his face, nails digging into his jaw. “We ride in a few moments, no food for you this morning, maybe you can reflect on your callus actions every time your stomach groans.” She finished with one more blow to his gut and left.

  
. . .

  
     There were a few more brushes with suspicious people on their journey to the Hatford compound but maintained that they were heading in a different direction every time they were stopped in hopes of throwing any followers off their trail. Along the way, Stuardo took it upon himself to make sure that Stefan listened and learned the language of every place he went to while his mother kept watch over him, making sure he wouldn’t make the same mistake, or another again.

  
     The compound where his mother’s family resided was on the northern coast of the country where two nations in the empire seemed to converge. It was a power play, although the Moriyama’s empire extended it’s legal reach out to where the Hatford’s base was located, they allowed much of the governing to them borne out of laziness and the idea that no good gladiators, soldiers, or real threats would come out of there so long as the leader of the Hatford’s didn’t outright inspire a rebellion.

  
     Little did they know that they had been planning one for years, but failed to find someone brave enough to be the voice to execute it. It was rumored that there was an unbridled and unaffiliate secret group of assassins and gladiators in training that would appear at the right time.  
There was never any proof for these rumors and the Moriyama’s let it go after countless investigations of the compounds and its surrounding areas.

     “Stefan, tell me, what are you skills in the ring?” Stuardo asked on the third day of riding. Stefan’s silence had been deafening in the entirety of the journey and his immediate response to flinch when his mother approached did not go unnoticed by Stuardo. With his bruising starting to fade and the nail marks from his mother almost completely gone, Stefan started looking like he had escaped his father more than if he had just sparred with him.

   
     Stefan looked to his mother for some sign of whether or not he should answer the question. Without any indication, he decided to proceed.

     “Knives, mostly pugios and daggers specifically. Hand to hand isn’t my strong suit so much as striking once and assessing the damage from afar.”

  
     “Ahh, so I have heard. Tell me if fighting again is of interest to you, it may be an easy way for you to earn-“

  
     “NO.” his mother cut him off with finality.

     “Easy, Maria. I was just proposing that he could make himself useful that way.”

  
     “It will not happen,” she said through gritted teeth, although the rest of her face was relaxing. It gave no indication she gave her statement with finality, but that she was discussing something as boring as the weather.

  
     “Well ok, no harm meant by it. Anyways, if you could spare the time, there are a few children of the leaders at the compound that need help with fighting and defense. You wouldn’t have to do much, just show them how to hold a blade and small things like that. What do you say? We have a training room on the third floor with an incredible view of the city. How does that sound?”

  
     “It sounds fine. I will only train those who are serious though. I don’t have time to waste on idiots who not care enough to learn.” He flicked a look at his mother who gave no protest.

  
     Stuardo chuckled at that remark. Stefan didn’t know if he knew he was not joking.

  
. . .

  
     After their arrival to the compound, Maria and Stefan were objected to a series of interviews by the leaders of the Hartford compound to make sure they were not there as spies instead of guests or affiliates.

  
     As a result they were kept in the dark and underground for about two weeks. Stuardo maintained an easy relationship during those two weeks and assured this was just the compound ensuring their safety given whose son he was and to also make sure no member let slip they had arrived and the locals would also not sell intelligence of their whereabouts. He did not reveal the consequences they would suffer but assumed it would be far more sinister than the bounty put on their head. Silence had a heavy price, more so with weights of punishments and threats.  
     

     The day before they were supposed to be allowed out of their confines underground, Stuardo returned in with a bottle of a black substance accompanied with a woman who reminded him of his mother, without the malice behind her smile.

  
     “We need to make it somewhat harder for anyone to identify you if you go outside the compound for any reason or anyone sees you that we haven’t cleared.”

  
     “Nath-, I mean Stefan.” The lady quickly corrected herself. He thought he remembered her saying her name was Isabel. “We will allow you out if you put this dye in your hair. It is too strong of an indicator of who you father is.” She shot a sympathetic smile his way and waited for his nod of acceptance.

  
     “Perfect! Thank you for understanding” Stuardo exclaimed as he clapped his hands together before he left.

  
      Isabel worked in comfortable silence as she meticulously worked on Stefan’s hair. She started with shaving his face which had been unkempt then moved on to the dye. She poured the thick black liquid into a basin next to one which held water. She dipped a broad brush into the dye and began working through his hair with a sort of gentleness he had not felt in years. Even though he could not fall asleep due to the instilled fear that rose up anytime he was close to someone. He instead thought of how his mother used to brush his hair instead of pull it out.

  
     Once she was satisfied with her work, she moved back to take away the dye and other materials with an order to stay still. Stefan did as he was told until she returned with another empty bowl and scissors. She spent ages rinsing the dye until she was satisfied with the amount that was washing out. She finished with cutting his hair long enough to leave the curls but short enough he would not have it in his eyes.

  
     “There.” She said at last, holding up a mirror for him to look at his reflection. He didn’t see much of a difference. His hair was different, yes, but the sinister eyes of his father continued to haunt him. He quickly gave it back before he followed her out to his quarters.

  
     She walked in silence until they got to his room, decorated in lavish silks and thick leather belts to hold his weapons. He was royalty, an heir here, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. He ran his hands over the smooth fabric at the foot of his bed and inhaled the thick scent of wood and leather around him. It wasn’t until after he had taken a moment to take in where he was going to stay for now that he realized Isabel was still standing in the doorway.

  
     “Need anything else Master Hatford?” she questioned. Stuardo had introduced him with his mother’s maiden name, another precautionary measure he did not fight.

  
     “No, I think I will be ok.” he said in dismissal, but she remained, hesitant. “What is on your mind?”

  
     “It is just,” she hesitated. “I was told you would help train the children in your days here and I was wondering if you would take interest in training my daughter Aurora, well she goes by her christian name Robin, as well? She is eight years in age and I assure you she will be a good student.”

  
     Uninterested in further conversation Stefan responded, “it was my understanding only boys will be trained but I will allow it if Stuardo approves.”

  
     She breathed a sigh of relief and nodded with agreement before excusing herself.

  
. . .

  
     For weeks Stefan spent the majority of his time inside the compound, training sons of the leaders on the large balcony off the third floor attached to another training arena. Occasionally the parents of these children would come to watch their training but none stayed too long. Suspicion was the main culprit, but after a few weeks they stopped coming altogether, trusting Stefan and treating him like the heir he was.  
A blade clattered to the floor breaking Stefan from his reverie on how much his life had changed and the horrifying realization that it had also stayed very much the same. He had moved to somewhere else, yes, but he also was still under constant threat of his father’s potential violence, he was training gladiators, and he was once again living up to impossible expectations of his status of heir to a different throne. He wanted to feel the way the children he taught did, at home and safe. He would almost rather run like he did months ago to find that place. It didn’t matter to him how long it took, he just wanted out. To have a name that he wanted, that was his own. But deep down, he knew he could never have that.

  
     “Sorry, Master Stefan.” Robin submitted, her eyes looking at the ground, afraid of reprimand. He hated that she had the knee-jerk reflex to shrink when she messed up, he saw too much of himself in those simple reactions. He hated whoever had done this to her.

  
     “No, it is fine, just pick it up and make sure to rotate your wrist before you strike, but lock it as you lunge. You are dropping it because you have no stability when you lunge, causing your wrist to let go of the blade.” He took the time to gently show her how to do what he had told her. He hated that he had such knowledge but thought perhaps it was good he was putting it to use.

  
     Robin didn’t speak much to him, but she was probably his favorite student. With Stuardo’s approval, she was allowed to take lessons but not with the boys in effort to keep from holding them back and being a distraction in lessons.

  
     Stefan didn’t know if it was in his best interest to tell the proud parents that all of the boys he taught, save a few, were absolutely terrible and had little to no discipline or skill and Robin was the last person that would hold them back the next time they said a snide comment about her trying to learn a “man’s skill”. He thought maybe he didn’t care and would do it anyway.

  
     After another hour or so of drills, the sun began to set indicating it was almost time for dinner. While unwrapping his bindings from hand-to-hand training, he thought he heard Robin mutter something under her breath causing his head to snap up.

  
     “Yes? Speak up,” he prodded, he hated the formality ingrained in him. He was still very much a child at heart like her.

  
     “It is just,” she struggled. “Thank you for agreeing to teach me. My mother has been trying to get someone to teach me but everyone refused until you.” She finished sweetly, Stefan didn’t know how to respond until she continued. “I know who you are. I don’t know if you are aware but people talk in whispers about who you are, what your father has done and what you will do. They expect you to fight, to lead us to overthrow the Moriyama’s. I have lost my brother for speaking too loudly about the resistance and he was killed for such ideas. But your arrival, it has given us hope.”

  
     “Hope is a dangerous thing people like to have, until it takes everything away. Be careful with such emotion” he said cutting off the conversation. “It is time for the evening meal, we should go before the sun is down,” he pressed.

  
     Robin bowed her head, her eyes betraying her fear that she had said too much before she quickly left, leaving Stefan with his thoughts.


	3. catching up

     Stefan knew his time was limited and nothing was guaranteed but he was beginning to find an odd sense of comfort in the routine he had established. Robin was progressing well with her training, so much so that she began coming to the last half of the boys’ training sessions for demonstrations. When he received complaints of how it was not right, or just in his methods he cut them off at the knees by telling them their children needed the motivation and if they put half as much effort into making sure their children had discipline than whether or not a girl was helping their instructor, they might be half as good as her.

     He received no more complaints after that and the boys began behaving much better. His mother began acting like her old self again, but a bitter sense of regret and contempt washed over her when she met his eyes.

     What Stefan didn’t expect was for a stranger, to burst into the dining hall looking out of breath and worried in the middle of a meal after the mass his uncle ironically attended without fail. How someone with so much red on his ledger could maintain a clear enough conscious to walk into a House of God and Patron Saints and confess his sins baffled him. The horrors Stefan had witnessed him carry out to ensure safety and secrecy and the pleas the people made to his uncle, himself and their God was enough to make him doubt any existence of such an entity.

     “There has been confirmation of Master and Mistress Hatford’s location and an informant escaped at the border to inform the Moriyama’s of their shelter here” he gasped.

     Everyone looked to Stuardo immediately, eyes occasionally flickering to Stefan and Maria, a silent plea for guidance.

     “Very well, we have approximately three days until they will arrive in Roma and another three until they will get here. We must prepare in the same way we have done before, women and children without any combat training are to clear the compound and take rations to our southern safe houses. Men and boys of age must stay behind. Only villagers of utmost importance and standing shall be informed of the invasion that is sure to come. I will take care of Stefan and Maria.” he said with finality.

     All at once, everyone rose from their seats and immediately started following orders they were all too familiar with.

     Stefan followed Stuardo, Maria and their bodyguards into a hallway that had an endless amount of turns until it opened into a small room filled with maps, papers and weapons. The purpose of this room was clear. Small tunnels were covered by tapestries, all no doubt leading to different exits outside the city. His movements fell into a mechanical motion, gathering supplies in regards to weapons, rations and minimally, clothes. His mother began talking quickly with Stuardo who handed her a few maps listing safehouses up north. He shoved a few pouches filled with coins to get them by and lastly any forged documents they may need.

     Once they had all they needed he sent them up to their quarters for rest. Maria tried to fight it but he insisted they would fare better with five days head start on a full night’s rest than without. He decided he would lead them to the border and have to turn back to help protect his people and maintain face they were not guilty.

. . .

     The next day started the longest four years of his life. He received his last night of sleep in a safe place there and didn’t get another for a while. His hand seemed to never let a knife go and his body began to look like a collection of lacerations one might find on a sparring model for children. His hair dead and black and his eyes lost all light they might have once had. He never let his guard down and his mother never let him have a moment of reprieve. Should he act ungrateful, tired, or show any sign of sickness, she made sure to beat the feeling from him. They had no time for humanity and weakness. The practice of lying to a stranger’s face became instinctual and the disposal of the bodies of people that didn’t believe him second-nature. Nathaniel came to the forefront, he just had different names now. Christian, Leonardo, Francesco, and Giuseppe were a few of the names that he was given and told to answer to. Each utterance of them made him remember he was a walking lie on this earth. Only when his mother whispered his true name in the dead of night as a way to fall asleep did he remember he could make it. Abram. The truth his mother reminded him of every-night before he fell asleep, until one day, she didn’t.

. . .

     For three years Maria and Abram had stuck by each other for better or worse. The horrors they encountered were many but somehow, someway, they always found a way to get out. Sometimes it meant they had to get out with gaping wounds and rushed stitches hoping to find clean water to wash it out with a bottle of alcohol, but they made it.

     This time though, they weren’t so lucky. His father and his men had beaten them to their warehouse and without warning, attacked. His mother and he managed as they always had before but the surprise got the better of them. Enzo, bloody and bruised managed to get on his horse, bleeding at a rate that would be alarming to anyone else, and pain lancing up his shoulder. A white-hot branding iron had been the first thing that had stuck him on one shoulder, a sharp piercing rod on the right and cuts wherever a blade found the opportunity to strike. His mother was beaten to the floor by his father but had pushed out of the house close behind after managing to injure and cut loose the horses his father and his men owned, buying them time.

     After a few hours of riding, Maria had dismounted her horse, instead insisting Enzo take the reins and take them to the northern border of Galia. For hours, they rode without stopping. Their horses used to the running, showed no signs of slowing sensing the fear in those riding or pulling them along.

     The extent of the damage Enzo’s mother took was revealed when he felt her starting to slump off the horse despite her efforts to stay awake and upright.

     Her body was failing her, and she was going to fail her son. They made it to the coast, a harbor in the distance, boats that could take them anywhere they wanted to go. Deep down, Enzo already knew he would be buying passage for one person that day.

     He dismounted his horse and eased his mother down into the rough, sandy shore. It was the end of summer, so the water was cool enough no one was around to witness them. His mother mustered all that she could to make use of her last moment. She looked into the eyes of her son who shared the same eyes of her killer. The person who damned her in a miserable existence also gave her someone she wanted more than anything to live. A reminder of what she couldn’t have though his existence did give her everything. There were words she wanted to say, apologies to whisper for the cruel life he was given and a mother whose job wasn’t to take the pain away, but to deal it so he didn’t endure something worse. Guilt was overtaking her, but she would feel that alone when she died. Her son needed one more lash of pain from her to remind him the world was cruel and unfair to the bitter end but he needed to keep fighting, even without her.

     She grasped for the back of his neck and pulled his face to look into her eyes, “Do you remember what I told you?”

     Abram recited the rules his mother had ingrained in him. “Don't look back, don't slow down, and don't trust anyone. Be anyone but myself, and never be anyone for too long.”

     Maria breathed a sigh of relief, cherishing one last look at her son. She prayed he would make it and before she closed her eyes, she also prayed he would have a quick death.

     Abram was lost.

     His mother had to be disposed of, but he had nothing left, all of his supplies except for the bag of papers and his knives were on his person when they walked in the house.

     He needed to turn everything off to finish the job he needed to undertake. He needed to dispose of a body. His mother was gone. This was just another thing he needed to cover up so he could keep running.

     He loaded her body onto the back of his horse and back out until he was at the top of a cliff overlooking a rocky bottom with sinister waves crashing against it. He started the long process of making his mother’s body unidentifiable, cutting away every piece of her until she was in pieces no one could put back together again. When he was finished, he gathered them in a large cloth, tied it closed, walked to the edge of the cliff and let it go. He watched it fall into the deep, blue sea and considered his father was the devil. He was caught in the middle.

     He hitched his mother’s horse to his and headed to the harbor. He decided he had given up on names and decided this next one would be his last. He decided on Neil to be his final name. It would fit in with the names in Britannia. He hadn’t been there yet, it was one of the farthest places in the empire that had a weaker tie to the Moriyama’s. He even considered that he would fight and compete for money with few options left to keep him afloat, refusing to break into the last three pouches of gold that would buy castles if he wanted, but the thought of using it made his stomach churn. He sold his mother’s horse and bought passage for him and his own, leaving Enzo behind, and with any luck, his father.

 


	4. meeting

      Neil didn’t know if it was lack of preservation or sheer laziness that he stayed under the same alias for almost a year now. He was fighting in the final category for the 13-18 age group, but due to his small build and short height, he could fake it and make easy money. He had nothing left after his mother died. They had lied to each other’s faces in their final moments, she with her harsh and brutal promises, and the one Neil told her about him trying to stay alive. Sure he had lied to himself in the beginning  about wanting to stay alive, but with each passing day, the reality of his father eventually catching up to him and killing him in the slowest, most painful way possible crept in. He just hoped she believed him when she died.

     He was finishing stripping the cheap armor he had bought after his match for the day. He felt almost sad for many of his opponents because they were unaware that there were two battles happening in the pit, one between Neil and the opponent, and the other within himself. Neil didn’t want to be a murderer, although any sane person could see he was capable of it. He knew where to strike that would lead to a slow bleed that would result in death before his opponent knew it was serious enough to warrant any concern. He had perfected his strikes since he could retain any memory, and he fought tooth and nail to make sure his instincts didn’t take over and he only hurt his opponent enough to win the duel.

     After a rushed rinse with the clean water and soap they provided him in the catacombs, Neil dressed in the same worn out garments he had donned for years. He could, without fail, walk out of the small arena the town boasted without so much as a sideways glance from spectators. Winning gladiators dressed in satins and silks deep with indigo and red dyes, not faded and torn tan cotton that looked as though it had seen better days. He made it to the outskirts of the town to the small place he had rented from an old lady who was almost blind. So long as he gave her enough to make food and afford water she allowed him to stay in the hut on the far edge of her property.

     It wasn’t much to boast. He had a ten minute walk to the nearest stream and there was barely enough room to lay down, but he had stayed in worst. Even with the absence of his mother’s fists, he wasn’t about to start complaining now. After dropping his worn leather bag and the pitcher from the table he heard rustling from outside his window. A normal person would have assumed an animal, but Neil knew better than to assume innocence in this world.

     “Who is there?” he threatened, if it was his father, it would be that last thing he would say.

     What he didn’t expect was two people covered head to toe in black, only their eyes visible coming in, one through an impossibly small hole he called a window, the other from the doorway. He pulled his knife but a much larger man, unconcerned with concealing his identity knocked him in the back of the head and Neil blacked out.

. . .

     He woke tied to his solitary chair in the middle of the hut. The taller of the two dressed in black wraps with a blinding orange for stitching leaned against the wall with an easy view out the window, the shorter once perched himself on his bed, spinning a small dagger on the tip of his finger. A bored look occupied his hazel eyes that peaked out from his mask despite the obvious puncture wound he was inflicting on himself.

     Realizing he was still alive and nothing about the actions of the strangers in his house screamed warning signs that these were his father’s men, he relaxed, but only just.

     “What the fuck do you want?”

     The tall man stepped into view, Celtic tattoos wrapped his arms, and other more foreign patterns he didn’t recognize. His towering and brawny stature would have been intimidating if not for the blatant posture he had of holding his palms up indicating his innocence and intentions.

     “Easy kid, easy” he paused looking into Neil’s eyes which were no doubt alight with fire and fear.

     “I asked a question” Neil persisted.

     “As if you are in any position to be the one making demands” the small man uttered with indifference.

     “Andrew,” the bigger man silenced him. He turned his attention back to Neil. “We are from the fox league of assassins up north. Every once in a while we come down and scout for potential recruits for our ranks and I think you would be a good fit for what we need.”

     “Fox, league—” Neil started, realizing who they were Neil remembered his uncle talking about foxes being the ones who were in hiding, earning their support in their plans to overthrow the Moriyamas. That meant the large man in front of him was Wymack, the leader of this group. He had heard the name in passing. Their headquarters were not of Britannia, in a place bitter and cold where the Moriyama’s deemed it unnecessary to expand because there were no resources for them to exploit. He needed to get out of there, his father would find him the second he appeared in their ranks. “No, no, no,” he shuddered with a quickening and panicked pace. “Let me go, I have to leave.”

     “Our reputation precedes us I see. How do you know about us?” Wymack crossed his arms.

     Neil realized if they knew who he was, who he really was, there would be no need for such questions. He was safe in anonymity for now. “I have heard rumors, but no actual evidence to prove you are real.” He stated simply unwilling to go on.

     The tall man leaning against the wall pushed himself to standing and he stalked towards Neil. He peeled the wraps covering his face to speak. “Now you have proof, and we are here to recruit you into our ranks. Frankly, I think your form is sloppy and your attacks need more precision in their execution but Wymack and I have been watching your matches for a couple of weeks now and he seems to think you’re worth something. We risked the trek and exposure to come talk to you. Don’t make us regret that decision.”

     Everything stopped. It wasn’t just the scathing evaluation and admittance of exposure that had him stunned, it was the identity that lurked underneath the mask. It was Kevin Day, the son of Kayleigh Day, an Irish captive that earned the emperor’s favor because of her ruthless battle tactics but won over the public because of her kind heart. When news of her death broke, the empire wept. Kevin was tucked away after that, training with Neil and Riko until the day Neil ran away. He hadn’t been able to say goodbye. Truth be told, he hadn’t thought about that until now.

     Even though he was on the run for the longest time, current events with gladiators never slipped by him. Anytime he was holding vigil while his mother rested, he would strain his ears whenever anything about Kevin, Riko or his father’s name came up.

     A few years ago, the traditional pair of Riko and Kevin had decided to split up. Kevin started pulling better ratings and louder cheers from the crowd to the point that he was dangerously close to outgrowing the glaring ink of the roman numeral two that adorned his cheekbone. Just as he almost reached his peak a year or so ago, he disappeared. Riko and master trainer Tetsuji citing a broken hand due to a sparring incident from another trainee by the name of Mikael. For his erratum, the accused was executed in front of the crowd of the colosseum by Riko in his first death match.

     What puzzled Neil is he had no recollection of a boy named Mikael ever being near the same training level of Kevin, himself and Riko. Of course, training records of themselves had never been revealed to the public so this fact never saw the light of day.

     He wanted a way out, but the fear that Kevin might find out who he was meant the possibility of execution. Then he remembered, he had lived his whole life that way and decided he would let his mother down one last time.

     “Alright, I will join you. When do we leave?” he decided.

     Wymack chuckled to himself in satisfaction, “Tonight.”

     The smaller man got up and sauntered over to Neal revealing his face finally by pulling back the wraps. “Not like that you aren’t.” His face was pale and plain, nothing special save for the freckles that dusted over his nose where the light could hit it when his face was covered. Neil looked into his hazel eyes and saw too much and too little all at the same time. This one had suffered in his lifetime too, but not in the way Neil had, it was a different kind of pain. One that took the fight from someone and left them empty. He recognized this short man as Andrew Minyard, a gladiator from eastern Gallia somehow earning a Germanic name with an Anglo-Saxon first. By the age of sixteen, as punishment for his crimes he was thrown into death-matches early, if he could survive his opponent and keep from killing them himself, he received a year off his sentence. In one year he had won fifteen death-matches and received his freedom. No one heard from him after that. It was often speculated he had been killed by the opponents he beat because of the embarrassment he caused them. But no one knew for sure. Breaking him from his reverie, a pile of black wraps trimmed with the blinding orange stitching Andrew donned fell into his lap unceremoniously. He flicked his hands in a gesture for him to get dressed, but he was not about to do it in front of these strangers.

     Seeing his aversion to being exposed Wymack flicked his chin to the two boys to follow him outside. A warning glance was issued to him by Wymack for running. He returned it in kind and spent the next five minutes trying to put on the garment to match the people that had come to take him. After messing up a tie he needed to make for the fifth time two deft, pale hands came up to fix the error he had made. He wordlessly straightened Neil’s appearance before giving him a once over and grunt of approval. Neil grabbed his bag and fixed it tightly against his back before following Andrew out the door as dusk settled upon the sky.

     Neil was running again, but this time, he wasn’t alone, and a part of him had that same feeling Robin had, hope; a dangerous, disquieting thing. The worst part was, he thought he liked it.

 


	5. the court

     Neil soon realized the trip was long on the way back because they were interrogating him in one way or another. He maintained his silence where he could, unwilling to give up unnecessary information, but answered any questions they deemed important to know. Things like what his name was, how old he was, his weapon preferences etc. All of the answers out of his mouth were lies, even the last one. He had changed to heavy weight weapons in another effort to conceal his identity. Yes, it had been a difficult change at first, his arms being too weak to last after a few swings before he needed to retreat and catch his breath, but he had always been good at making his strikes count.

     Andrew was silent the entire time, well at least he thought Neil didn’t notice but he spoke to himself in a Germanic language, one he hadn’t heard in a long time, although he could recall his mother teaching him the language after living there for a few months but deemed it too close to where his father’s people were from to stay long. He caught words muttered under his breath like “dye” and “secrets”, but never full sentences, as though he was wrestling with himself on what he could and couldn’t say out loud.

     Kevin spent every moment they weren’t sleeping or walking, training. For years Kevin had wielded a broadsword with no shield for years, his left-handedness being a unique trait that allowed him to strike where his opponents weren’t used to blocking. That is, until it was shattered. He had practiced only with his right hand now, and although he practiced with precision and effort, his frustration at the lack of fluidity he still possessed with his alternate hand obvious.

     Kevin attempted to rope Neil into training with him, but Andrew shot Neil a look that indicated he was trying to boil his blood as a warning not to raise a bladed against Kevin until they reached the compound. Wymack was indifferent, he had seen Neil fight and thought he was good enough to join, but Neil saw when he looked at him, Wymack seemed to see something deeper. He wasn’t sure if he knew Neil was lying about who he was, but he saw through him, and looked at him, not with pity, but with understanding.

     The temperatures dropped to a deadly cool temperature, but the cloth they had donned for their uniforms kept them almost unbearably warm. It was strange but it seems the heat wouldn’t escape their tightly wound wraps, but he hadn’t noticed being too hot when he was farther south in Britannia.

     The appeal to hiding their headquarters so far up north was understandable when he realized that few people settled in Picts due to the harsh conditions and the empire deemed it unnecessary conquer due to the lack of exploitable resources.

     They arrived just before dusk at a village over the border. They passed through without any stares as the villagers must have felt safe and had a semblance of understanding of what lurked just beyond the hills. Wymack and the others picked up a few supplies and food, all of them carrying an extra satchel before quickly departing into the plunging amber hills. They seemed to light on fire with the sun behind them as if in warning for intruders to dare to enter their land.

     What Neil wasn’t ready for is Wymack taking the lead as they approached a boulder and moving a few leaves before plunging through a hole a passerby would have missed. Kevin moved to go after but Andrew held him back, insisting Neil go in front of them. He complied, uncomfortable with having his back exposed to them, but forced his nerves to calm down, to not set off any alarms. He turned his back to them, an plunged into the dark abyss.

. . .

     The world underground was incredible and made Neil marvel at what was underneath the word he knew. It looked like he had stumbled into a gargantuan geode that resembled something like a topaz and a citrine gemstone. Layers of amber ran through the walls making the entire cave glow with an orange light. Holes were strategically placed in the top of the cave allowing air circulation and natural light in. When his gaze dropped down and he looked out down from the ledge he was perched upon with his newly acquainted emissaries Neil saw an entire hidden city.

     It seemed like another village had settled underground with people constantly moving from one place or another. There were small tunnels leading to what looked like dwelling places for the people settled there and a place that was a dining hall to the left and a grand open space in the middle, a few more corridors were open to the right but were guarded by two watchmen.

     “Follow me” Wymack gruffed after a few moments of stunned silence from Neil.

     Andrew rested his hands lightly on Neil’s back to guide him where he needed to go. It didn’t go unnoticed to Neil that people looked skeptically at his presence and subtly nodded in place of a bow as they passed through the empty cavern they had descended into. Wymack immediately made his way to the corridors on the right, breezing by the guards with no hesitation.

     After a few convoluted turns and the careful selection of turning right or left at a few junctions they found themselves in a room covered in tapestries that seemed like they we on fire because of the vivid colors used to weave in them. Plush chairs and lounges were spread in a semicircle.

     “Kevin, Andrew, have all the elites assemble here” Wymack instructed. Neil stayed put at his side.

     Within minutes the room had filled with seven additional figure all in the same black wrappings, faces uncovered and clad in various armor. He was shocked to see so many women in the assembly of people. Three of them to be exact. Gladiator fighting had been primarily focused on being a man’s ‘sport’ but when the Moriyama’s took over, with Kayleigh Day’s insistence, women were allowed to compete in pairs both of the same sex and with a male counterpart.

     Neil sized each individual that came in through the archway, making note of their weapons, scars where they hadn’t been fast enough to block and even relational ties both for fighting and for personal reasons. The first to walk in was a tall and muscular woman with deep skin indicating she was from the land’s south of the empire and hair braided tightly against her skull. Her eyes seem to bleed defiance an undying loyalty to those that followed her. Close behind was a man that had to have at least a foot on Neil, his skin a few shades lighter than the woman, his eyes much kinder than the first which stood in direct contrast with the brawny and intimidating build his body had.                They took two seats on the far side of the room. The third and fourth came in at the same time, a tall blonde woman from a land north and east from where his people came from. She gave no regard to the new person standing before her, and instead took her seat on the arm of a lounge that fourth person had taken. A worn and hard man came in with her, his eyes drawn and muscles looked as though thin strings off of an instrument held them to his frame. At one point he may have been a formidable opponent, but Neil questioned if he would even survive a pairs’ death match without asking his partner to be willing to sacrifice their life to protect him. He took residence next to the blonde who leaned against him in a display of affection. A small pixie-like girl floated in close after the blonde. She walked with a purposeful imbalance to disguise the cat-like walk she had. She took residence next to the third and fourth individual. The next one was a man that looked in more ways than one, like Neil. He of course was taller and had thick dark curls that were styled perfectly away from his face and a grin that stretched from ear to ear. Before taking his seat he walked up to Neil and made a point to introduce himself.

     “Nicky Hemmick” he admitted before reaching his hand out and nodding his head in acknowledgment of Neil in his ranks before taking a seat on the isolated chair closest to them. At first glance, it looked like Andrew had walked in but his face looks different in that it wasn’t indifferent. The entire journey north, Andrew hadn’t revealed any preferences with his face or voice, only in his actions. This face, not-Andrew’s face held a gaze of disdain and exasperation. After his entrance was Kevin and Andrew. The final three took residence on the lounge, Andre in the middle, his lookalike and Kevin on either end.

     “Alright” Wymack gruffed, calling the attention of all of the individuals. “We have a new recruit, Neil of Brittania. He is here on my accord so treat him as such. Everyone tell him their names and training will be dismissed for the day and we will feast in the great hall. Afterwards, Nicky and Matt show him around and his quarters. You know the drill.” He fished his statement with a gesture for the first individual in the semicircle to introduce themselves.

     First up was the girl who had unusually white hair but traits that matched the lands the Moriyama’s hailed from, the one with the purposeful imbalance. “ I am Renee, and given the last name Walker. It is so very nice to meet you” she finished with a sweet smile. Up next was the tired boy the blonde had leaned against.

     “I’m Seth” was all he offered as an introduction. Neil didn’t feel unwelcome as himself, he just felt unwelcome as a human being with his attitude, like Seth wanted nothing to do with nobody.

     “Allison, given the last name Reynolds” the blond flipped he hair and gave a suggestive smile it looked more out of habit.

     “Nicholas Esteban given the last name Hemmick, but you can call me Nicky” the overly excitable boy said with a wink. He thought he would be too much to handle but that he could manage tonight and keep his distance after that.

     “Kevin” was all he admitted, and gestured to the next two people on the lounge, “Andrew and Aaron.” They made no protests for their opportunity to speak taken from them.

     The cheerful giant beamed when he realized it was his turn to speak “Matthew given the name Boyd, ironically,” he chucked through the whole thing. “But you can call me Matt,” he finished.

     The final member, the first one in, stood as though the accession to a leadership stance was normal and not a boast of her rank. “I am Danielle given the name Wilds, and you can address me as Dan or Captain, I am not picky.” She radiated strength and poise, her companion next to her seemed to beam at her. Neil liked these two, he felt like he could respect them immediately because they seemed to have no ulterior motives or reservations with him. “Now why is it you are here?”

     “I was under the impression I was recruited by you and your company?” Neil questioned.

     “Yes, but there is something about each of us that make us have our names if we do not wish to carry our old ones into this life. It is a chance to start over. Who you are can determine your name. Allison was given the name Reynolds for her royal heritage, Renee was given Walker for her skills and enduring strengths, myself Wilds from where I spend most of my time. What is your story gladiator?”

     Neil paused, blank at the personal information divulged to him at no cost. He had no identity, no place to call home, no trait he could assign himself aside from the ones burned into him during his childhood. He was nothing and no one. There was no piece of him he could give without digging up the worst parts of him.

     “I have none, all I have is this before you,” he conceded, unwilling to give too much without saying anything. Dan took his admission and sighed.

     “Very well, it will be decided at a later time when the company has more time with you. Until then, dinner is now and your tour is to follow, we train at sunrise before specialized lessons during the day and a group training in the evening. Yo are free to do as you please after that. Try not to stay up too late, Kevin takes no prisoners in the morning.” She slid him a sly smirk before returning her seat. All eyes flickered from Neil to Wymack.

     “What are you looking at me for? Go eat!” he commanded and left to his quarters outside where the gladiators had come in.

     Neil was left to his own devices with the likes of Matt and Nicky to show him around the, well, he didn’t know what to call it but he also didn’t want to ask them to encourage further conversation. Neil was certain he would attain that information without the intention to anyways.

     Nicky and Matt were overjoyed by his presence which seemed odd given the rest couldn’t act more indifferent to his being there.

     The tour seemed to go along exactly as he would expect. Matt and Nicky led him out of the grand dining hall and into the place he had first seen which was the mini village that had developed underground. It reminded him heavily of Stuardo’s compound in Hispania but without the feeling of being a part of something the Moriyama’s were. Neil felt like this place was for freedom, not a change in control.

     The market was less of a market and more of a communal place of work. Gladiators that were not in the ranks of the company he was recruited to join went out and competed for money and bought supplies to redistribute to the village. In turn all equipment was mended and modified underground. There were elders and their students that studies the craft of fighting, training, an equipment improvement. Neil suspected that’s how they came up with the unique fabric the elite company wore under their armor or during travel.

     “So what do you think?” Matt said, pausing back at the archway leading back into the lounge he had met the other nine in.

     “It’s impressive” Neil admitted.

     “Oh yeah, wait until you see the Foxhole Court tomorrow for training?” Nicky chimed in.

     “Foxhole Court?” Neil asked.

     “Yeah, gladiators generally train in arenas with dirt floors and such but, here, it is a work of art, like a king’s court.

     “But we don’t think of ourselves as above anyone,” Matt interjected, sending a pointed look Nicky’s way, “We came from the lowest of the low and had to fight our way through life. No one expects anything from us and we fight for what we want because we don’t deserve anything in kind. We claw our way through life to get where we want to be. We are Foxes, and now, so are you. The moment you stepped through this archway you became a fox.” Matt finished with a grin on his face but a solemn look in his eyes.

     “Alright, enough sap, follow us in here, only Foxes and their trainers and medics are allowed past this point. You’ll be spending most of you time here in the Foxhole. There are four sleeping areas each have their own common room that splits off to two additional rooms each with two beds in it. I am with Andrew, Aaron, and Kevin, you on the other hand will be with Seth and Matt, The girls have the third one and the fourth area is unoccupied.”

     “Yeah and since there were two of us Seth and I each had a room, but you get to choose which one of us to room with.”

     Neil didn’t need time to contemplate his decision, he would much rather room with Matt because he seemed trustworthy, it didn’t matter how nice he was.”

     Neil followed them through a separate archway and into his room. Nicky left with an enthusiastic wave own the corridor. Neil dropped his bag and immediately checked for his papers and pouches of gold. He wasn’t surprised they were still there and accounted for but the fear something happened to them lingered.

     “What do you have there?” Matt startled Neil with his interjection into the room. “What are all of those papers in your bag for?” he pushed.

     “Uhm, nothing, just some letters from my mother,” Neil lied.

     Matt laughed and raised his hands up “no need to look like I am going to steal your possessions, we all carry our past, don’t tell me, that’s fine. Listen, if you don’t want anyone getting into it, there are a few places you could hid it within the cracks of these walls. I won’t look and I assure you I won’t let anyone else look either.”

     Neil was dumbfounded at Matt’s kindness and didn’t know how to respond other than with a solemn nod.

     “The bath for us is separate from the common people of the settlement and you need one. I think you have dried blood in your hair that has been there for years” Matt finished with a finality before grabbing a drying cloth and walked out the archway. Neil followed with a spare cloth hung up for him by the opening. Fear coursed through his head while he walked to the bath. Neil avoided them at all costs, not because he didn’t enjoy being clean, but his body had more than the usual amount of scars adorning it.

     Matt opened a heavy door that looked carved from smooth stone that glided on the floor to a big room filled with steam. two pools filled the majority of the open space, smooth cool marble surrounded the perimeter of the pools.

     Allison and Seth were already in the middle of the pool closest to the entrance with Renee perched on the edge reading some written texts. Neil was shocked at their apparent disregard for their lack of clothing. Of course there were a few nicks and scars up and down their arms but nothing too grim. Renee had some scars on her chest and lower abdomen but Neil didn’t stare too long, already sensing she knew he was looking. He continued to follow Matt to the back of the room where Nicky, Aaron and Kevin were finishing up in the second pool. Matt changed out and joined Seth and Allison up front. Neil stayed clothed and in the back for a while, enjoying the feel of the marble cool against his aching muscles and tight skin. He closed his eyes and dozed off hoping he would get a few moments alone to bathe after the others eventually left.

     He woke again to Matt and Dan gathering their things near him.

     “It’s all yours” Dan aside before ruffling Neil’s hair and walking out. Somehow everyone else had left before him. Neil waited for the door to close before he stripped out of all of his clothes and walked to the water’s ledge. He peered over and stared at his reflection. His hair would need to be re—dyed again soon, his red hair was starting to show through, Matt had noticed it. He cursed is carelessness and put one foot into the water.

     The water was hot and enveloped him like the plush velvet throws he had on his bed at the compound. He sank deeper in the water and allowed himself to enjoy it for a few moments. The clean cutting smell of mint and eucalyptus took over Neil’s senses before he quickly washed himself off. Neil scrubbed off dried blood, dirt and scabs off of his body willing himself to wash away his past and for a moment Neil was tempted to scrub off his skin to start over.

     Once Neil finished he got out of the pool to dry off. After he dried off and put on a loose tunic and trousers before going to bed the door opened again making Neil’s hair raise. He spun around quickly to see the who the intruder was.

      Andrew walked through with a cool gaze analyzing Neil’s tense posture. Black wraps covered the entirety of his forearms and a long loose black tunic covered his body. Without hesitation he made his way directly to Neil who stood frozen in his place, unable to break from Andrew’s gaze.

     Neil didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let out the tension in his chest when Andrew reached an arm forward to touch a scar on the side of his next. His hand hovered above Neil’s skin just barely above it, eyes burning into his soul. Neil swallowed and nodded to whatever Andrew was asking and a hand came down on the raised and puckered skin.

     Andrew did nothing to move the color of his shirt and never broke eye contact with Neil as he uttered his next choice words carefully. “These are not scars a boy raised in normal gladiator training receive. Someone meant to kill you with this strike, and you are running from something. The blood in your hair will not wash out, because it is a part of you. You are hiding something and I am here to protect those in my care. Don’t give me anymore reasons not to trust you. Honesty will win you protection, lies will earn you something in kind.” Andrew removed his hand and dropped it to his side.

     Neil’s skin where he touched him was on fire. He opened his mouth to speak but failed to make anything come out. He couldn’t lie, not again today. Andrew only cocked an eyebrow and waved him away before dropping his things to take his own private bath. Neil found the motivation to move and floated out of the room to his bed half in a daze. He didn’t remember falling asleep but his dreams replayed Andrew’s eyes staring into his soul until he woke for his first day training as a member of the foxes.


	6. under wraps

     Neil woke to Matt rustling on his bed, and for a moment, relished in the plush fur throws and pillows that enveloped him in a deep sleep. He felt rested, for the first time in a while. He followed a groggy Matt out to the dining hall with the rest of the Foxes and ate in silence, observing the only people remotely resembling morning people were Kevin and Dan. The rest of the company chewed at an excruciatingly slow pace, delaying the inevitable.

     They retreated to their rooms to put their wraps on and strap on their training gear. Matt laughed at Neil at his first attempt of wrapping his body but eventually Neil got them to grip his body despite his insistence to wear a tunic underneath, refusing to expose the scars that lie under it. Matt bounded out of the room, ready to train and left Neil to gather his thoughts. He checked for his pack and papers in the crevice Matt had shown him. Just as he put away the rest of his things, he felt a presence at his back that made his hair stand on end. Gripping a knife he already had in hand to strap to himself, he threw it to defend from the intruder before looking at who his target may be.

     A bored expression dodged the blade that pierced the wood frames that lined the cracks in the wall behind it. Andrew had come to fetch him.

     “Wymack sent me to make sure you didn’t make a run for it” he stated, looking at the place Neil could still feel his touch on form the night before.

     “Yeah, uh let me get my weapons and I’ll come out.”

     Andrew waved him in dismissal, “no need, we will outfit what you need with our blacksmiths. Start with the generic equipment today and you will be fitted with customs in a fortnight.”

     “Neil sighed, walked up to Andrew, eyes boring into him, refusing to break contact before leaning over him to dislodge the knife from the wall. Andrew flicked his chin up challenging Neil to make a move, before turning and letting Neil follow.

     It seemed Kevin had been waiting outside the entire time along with Nicky, but Andrew’s twin had yet to show. Perhaps he suspected Neil was not one to make friends and didn’t bother trying like the rest. He didn’t care.

     After walking for what seemed like an eternity in hallways, the group finally stopped at thick cloak of orange fabric covering an archway that was easily four times Neil’s height and almost equally as wide. They were far from the place they lived, wary to give away such a location.

     “Welcome to the Foxhole Court Neil” Nicky said with an expectant smile. Kevin and Nicky pulled back the cloak, Andrew stayed close behind him and walked him through the arch.

     Neil was not ready to see the court in this lifetime or any other. It was the most gorgeous place he had ever seen. The floors were on fire with an orange floor that seemed to be a single slap of gemstone that spanned for leagues and flecks of metallic gold pieces litter its entire surface. The texture underfoot was velvet. The walls mimicked the color in kind with more jagged veins running through it. hundreds of tiny holes were drilled into the ceiling causing concentrated beams of light to pierce through the air and strike the floor just right to illuminate it entirely. Arched openings surrounded the entire top of the court as it this place had been hollowed out underground. The benched for spectators to sit were carved into the wall at an angle to stagger the seats. Black marble outlined the arena while four white marble columns anchored the four corners of the arena to support the weight of the immaculate ceiling which mirrored the floor below it.

     The Foxhole Court was the heart and soul of a place that wanted nothing more than to light a fire of rebellion against the Moriyamas, and Neil had stepped right into the middle of it.

     “So Neil, impressive right?” Nicky asked.

     Neil couldn’t respond, he just kept walking towards its center where a coat of arms was inlayed to the middle with differing marbles and gemstones. A knife was in the top left corner, pointing upwards, a fox paw on the other corner, below was the balance and the roman numeral ‘II” etched into the bottom right corner. In the middle was a fox on top mid-jump, ready to attack its enemies.

     Neil became aware that the other foxes were practicing in various sections on the court but his dazed walk to the middle had distracted them from their work.

     “Are you done yet?” Wymack gruffed from behind, and Neil, having his senses dialed up to eleven given the triggering sounds of clashing blades around him whirled around and staggered backwards. He threw his arms up in front of him but removed them quickly once he resisted Wymack’s were up in surrender.

     “Easy kind, easy” just let’s get you a couple of sets of equipment to find what you want to use and get you in a training group. We rotate partners every other day, and you make us even with ten members in our company now. Today you can work with Seth and go from there.

     Neil followed Wymack into the equipment room filled with varying blades, shields, ropes, and other weapons more specialized skillsets would desire. Neil strayed from his traditional dual wield short blades and instead reached for a longsword and plated braces for his forearms before setting out to train.

     Seth was unbearable like the first moment he met him. His lingering brute force allowed him to have some leverage on Neil but Neil’s speed made dodging his attacks easy. His inexperience at longswords made him sluggish and slow to attack allowing Seth easy blocks. He was out of practice at a stalemate. Also Neil took the time to look an observe what each person on the team had chosen to fight with. A lot can be said about a gladiator based on the weapons they choose. Kevin and Seth both use the traditional longsword and shield, Renee using a smaller variation of such. Allison used two small daggers and an axe was strapped between her shoulders at her back for any big attacks. Aaron used a double edged spear, Nicky used a sickle and a small shield sharpened to a point. Andrew of all people looked like he didn’t use weapons. He was pared with Renee and insisted on used a shied with limited sharp points and protrusions. Neil thought Andrew’s reputation was from his choice of weaponry, but clearly there was more. Andrew played on the defensive, never striking until the last possible moment after the offensive-driven opponent got lazy with a string before he seized his opportunity. Out or nowhere a sturdy and detailed knife appeared causing Renee to call a draw on the spar before starting again.

     After hours of physical training, the team went to technical training about strategy and updates on movements on the Moriyama’s people. The movement of Neil’s father and his mercenaries was briefly mentioned but nothing came of it. Apparently they were headed east, the direction Neil hard implied his mother and they were still on.

     After technical, they headed out to the dining hall for dinner and then to the baths.

     This routine continued for a few weeks, allowing Neil to get to know each of the members and their fighting styles. He maintained his distance from each, dodging Allison’s prying questions about his past, Nicky’s on which was Neil ‘swings’ and the cold stares Aaron gave him with each passing match they fought.

     Neil’s custom longsword finally came in, it was more balanced to his holding and shorter to accommodate his height proportionally, but still felt clunky. The day he was pared with Andrew lit him on fire. His nerves had ever hair standing on the end. After the night in the bath, Neil hadn’t had too many moments alone with Andrew, mostly because he hovered around Kevin and Aaron during most of his time.

     When Neil stepped out onto the court to pair with Andrew, he was surprised to find him in the middle of the court instead along the perimeter.

     “Why the middle?” Neil asked as he approached, spinning his new weapon in hand and tightening his braces?

     “I need to see you from all angles, out in the open. You hide in the shadows of the corners too much.”

     Neil nodded his head in agreement to his observation and began. Andrew put minimal effort into fighting him, instead dodging him, like he treated every other partner he had besides Renee. After an hour of hopeless attacking, Andrew became bored and eventually turned around and walked to Wymack at the entrance of the armory. Neil saw him exchange a few words with the older man before Wymack called the court to attention.

     “Everyone save Neil and Minyard are to clear the court. No technical today. Dismissed.”

     Neil was dumbfounded at this. His arms were already growing tired, the sword’s weight growing on him. Andrew disappears into the armory but didn’t appear until everyone had left.

     He came out with a Pugiot and a carved long dagger and tossed them on the ground where they glided to Neil’s feet. 

“You have been lying since you walked into this place. You do not use longswords and your appearance is a lie, underneath you is a mystery and your name is a remnant because despite your best effort to cover it up, you hesitate for too long when someone calls you by your name. Give me a reason to not kill you know for suspected treason.”

     “I can’t” Neil struggled.

     “Then you have no place here” Andrew finalized and began to turn to leave.

     “Wait.” Neil struggled, thinking of how he could give enough. “I cannot give this for free, you know that as much as anyone in this company.”

     Andrew turned around, a faint pull at his lips suggested his interest. “A trade then.”

     “A fair one. A truth for a truth.”

     “Reasonable” he pondered.

     “What do you want to know from me?” Neil offered, to see what Andrew wanted from him before wasting his opportunity.

     “Who are you?” He asked. Neil took a moment to see what he could give him.

     “Someone running from something and this was the only place left to go besides hell, if there is such a place after this purgatory.”

     Andrew studied Neil, walking back up to him. Neil’s skin was set on fire again, the gold in the walls and floor matched that of the liquid in Andrew’s eyes. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. He almost forgot Andrew was patiently waiting for him to take his turn.

     “Why do you wait until everyone is gone?” Neil knew Andrew knew exactly what he was talking about.

     “People understand things conditionally, so long as they can see what they want through their own eyes. No one here has seen what I have so I keep it to myself” Neil felt more confused than before he asked the question.

     “That’s why you have some wraps you don’t take off isn’t it?” Neil asked before he could stop himself. Andrew cocked an eyebrow before answering, giving Neil the opportunity to take the question back. Neil didn’t, he was going to ask sooner or later.

     “We all hide things under wraps. You would know all about that wouldn’t you? Andrew reached a hand up to touch the collar of Neil’s tunic peeking out from underneath his layers. before brushing his hand under Neil’s hairline, eliciting a shiver. Just as fast, Andrew had stepped away, leaving the knives at Neil’s feet and keeping a credit on a truth.

     Andrew was the only person Neil couldn’t figure out, but knew Andrew already understood him more than he could ever know.


	7. jumping off a cliff

     It had been over a month since Neil had arrived at the Foxhole to train with the Foxes and he began to allow himself to relax. Not insofar that he would reveal anything about himself to the Foxes, but he allowed himself to enjoy, if only briefly, small things the foxes took part in as a whole, as a family.

     Matt and Dan had taken it as their job to watch Neil and fiercely protect him from any suspicious onlookers when his new face made an appearance in the common areas of the village. Allison insisted on taking Neil out on brief excursions on the town to purchase new silks and anything she could find of value. Kevin had taken it as his personal mission to make Neil suffer, insisting he stay later for practices that bled over into their dinner and sometimes insisted Neil pick up a practice or two normally he did alone while Andrew supervised or poorly played the part of a sparring partner. Neil stayed wary of Renee and Seth, the former because she gave him an unsettling presence that she understood Neil better than he might know himself and Seth because with every passing moment he spent with Allison, the increasingly more bitter he became. Aaron spent most of his time away from the foxes altogether. Neil caught him sneaking away before dinner, after and even in the evenings to the common people’s area where the tradesmen and strategists resisted but never saw where he was directly going. Nicky would sometimes invite himself along to anything Neil was involved in, and always ponied commentary the inevitability led to romantic interests. Neil deflected these questions at all cost.

     Andrew remained elusive through his entire stay, occasionally providing a word or two of insight to what he was thinking and waited for Neil to finish in the bath in the evening before making a remark upon his arrival and Neil’s departure. He remained a shadow, a presence that filled a room and intimidated any that diminished its value.

            After physical training Wymack dismissed the Foxes to the common room for a meeting. A lack of elaboration meant something was wrong but Wymack maintained his unreadable expression until they reached their lounges in their usual spots.

     “There has been a new order by the Moriyamas” Wymack began. Neil knew nothing with their name in it meant something good. They weren’t exactly benevolent when giving orders. “All citizens in their empire and those wishing to be eligible to compete must issue their name for submission before preliminary gladiator matches in preparation for death matches in the following spring. We have a fortnight to submit the paperwork, I need all of you to know this is what we have been preparing for, a rightful way to challenge the empire. Anyone unwilling to go forward with this must speak now and has full ability to leave now without judgement. Once you stay, you stay until the end.”

     All of the foxes shifted their gaze to Dan, the leader of their group under Wymack to see that her response. In her eyes Neil could see an unbridled fire to fight and understood why she was given the last name ‘Wilds’. She was not one to be broken despite what she has been through. She stood up and took her place next to Wymack and placed her sword at his feet.

     “I am with this until the end” she stated a s a truth. Matt followed close behind.

     “Until it is set right.” Matt had explained to Neil his given name frim the company within his first few nights. He was given ‘Boyd’ meaning fair. He laughed as many interpreted it as ironic and something better suited for the appearance of Andrew or Aaron, but it was for his intention. Always for fairness, nothing for personal gain.

     The rest of them followed suit letting their intentions follow suit. Andrew said nothing, but gave a small salute with two fingers to Wymack before standing behind the rest of the company. Neil was the last to get up, still possessing the sword that didn’t fit him, keeping the knives Andrew had made for him under his bed, unable to pick them up yet.

     Neil had nothing to promise, except his very being would put them all in danger. He couldn’t give anything yet, he wasn’t even whole yet. Only a hollow lie that everyone took him for. He stood up and approached Wymack looking for something within him to offer.

     “Until I cannot.”

He took his place beside Andrew. The Foxes fell in line together and stood as a until. Dan lowered herself to her knees and the others followed suit.

     Wymack caught Dan on the shoulder and pulled her up to eye level again.

     “Stand, I am not better than you and your promises are not to me. I am not going to be the hope everyone sees when we step out into the empire to breakdown the hold the Moriyama’s and their Wesninski guards keep on the hopeless people in their lands.” Neil shuddered at his father’s name stated so callously.

     The others stood. “It is you, all of you, that will lead the revolution until we get out chance to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.”

     “Take the next few days for yourselves and pack anything you might need when we leave when I assign you to your matches. Dismissed”

     All of them immediately retreated to their rooms to take off their equipment and take it to be mended before they leave. Neil grabbed his drying cloth and followed Matt to the Bath again to take advantage to the time they had before dinner.

     As usual, when he walked in the others did not ask to have him join, instead he sat at the edge and engaged when he could. After sometime, the others got up to leave for dinner.

     Neil got up and shed his tunic before stepping into the water one more time. What he did not expect was after he had submerged his head underwater the weight of everything that was about to happen came crashing down on him. Blood from shallow cuts he had sustained that day began to seep into the water around him. He was no longer in the bath in the Foxhole, he was in the one his father had in his personal villa on the outskirts of the capital.

     It was the place where Neil would wash off the blood caked to his body from training that day. One evening his father had come in, disappointed from the report given by Lola and Romero that day, and held Neil under the water until he blacked out. He remembered hearing his mother scream as the world went dark. He woke that evening with his mother crying over his body with a swelling eyes he hadn’t remembered he having that afternoon. His father no doubt had reservations on allowing her to bring her son back.

     Neil was as helpless in the water as the day he drowned. He couldn’t see the orange and white marble, only the black and red granite that coated the inside of every building the Moriyama’s and their men owned. Neil’s lungs were burning and filling with water.

     He was vaguely aware of someone calling out his name but didn’t see a face. He was drug out of the water and his back was suddenly pressed against the cool marble floor, shocking his system into breathing again. A hand reached behind Neil’s back and shoved his head between his knees.

     “Breathe,” the voice of the hand instructed. Neil did as he was told, copying the breaths of the person keeping their hand at his neck while his vision focused and his chest relaxed.

     Vaguely aware of his surroundings, Neil realized he was naked and in the floor of an open room. He immediately sprung up, head hazy from getting up too fast and ran to cover himself and grab the knife from underneath his tunic and spun around to see who was there.

     All he saw was Andrew kneeling in the same spot he had just fled. The palms of his hands were up, his body bare save a single dark tunic plastered to his skin.

     Neil was frozen in his place, still processing where he was, who he was, and the man he was staring at on the ground.

     “Neil, are you there?” Andrew questioned. Neil took a moment to think and slowly nodded.

     “I’m fine.”

     “Yeah, looks like it,” Andrew retorted.

     Neil rolled his eyes and walked back to Andrew and held out his hand to help him up. Andrew, hesitant at first held out his arm and took his hand.

     “Thank you.”

     Neil then became aware the skin under his fingertips was not smooth. Andrew’s hand had grabbed his wrist and Neil had done the same to the other man’s. Neil immediately let go once Andrew was standing and stable, feeling like he violated some form of privacy.

     “You aren’t the only one with scars you needed to stay alive outside of an arena,” he stated with finality, eyes locking onto Neil’s. He walked away and picked up Neil’s discarded things and handed them to him. “The reason I am here was not to stop you from drowning, it was to tell you to wrap yourself for tonight. It’s initiation night, bring your best options to survive the night. Meet me at the top of the court just before the sun sets.” Without another word he dismissed Neil to leave and get in the water.

     He knew what he needed but didn’t want to admit it to himself. Neil found himself dressed and wrapped looking at two options laid out on his be before him. On one side was his old, cracked leather bag, his life he could go back to and run from the people he would no doubt put in danger when he showed his face and registered in the gladiator competition circuit. The other side of the bed held his two weapons Andrew had made for him. There was a purpose to everything Andrew had told him, and he made no mistake when he said, options instead of option. He remembered why he had to stay, he made a promise to the Foxes and owed Andrew a truth, something he would pay off.

     Knowing he would never stop running if her left now, Neil sighed, picked up his weapons, and headed to the exit.

. . .

     Neil walked in the direction he thought was toward the top of the court hidden under his feet. In the distance he saw himself approaching a ridge overlooking the shore of the ocean meeting the island. He started making out figures in the distance and approached them, going against all of his instincts.

     The Foxes were standing side by side close to the ledge fully dressed in armour. Neil stared to panic but composed himself before he stopped in front of them.

     Dan stepped forward from the line and looked to Neil. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she looked at the weapons he had brought but made no attempt to question his decision.

     “Before you can join us, you need a name and a place among our ranks. We all came to be a part of something bigger, we have all been chosen to fight, in turn we must follow through with a willingness to do so, not for ourselves, but for the freedom of the empire, the disenchanted and ruined. Do you willingly submit to this?

     “I do.”

     “Very well, with your chosen weapons you are to be assigned your battle group. We will. Begin with your three matches of challenged subjects, Boyd of the Uppers, Walker of the _______, and Minyard of the Monsters. You have the option to deny their challenge now. Is there a denial in these requests?”

     Neil was stumped on what he was to say. He knew he didn’t want to be paired with Matt, and was leery at best with Walker, no indication as to why Andrew would want to challenge for his protection and partnership in battles.”

     “I respectfully decline the offer from Boyd,” Neil responded.

     “Very well, to complete the rejection, you must best him in battle. You have five minutes. No interference is allowed from any other gladiators. Pick up your weapons.”

     Neil didn’t want to fight Matt. Fear washed over his eyes, afraid to allow his instincts to take over and in a moment and kill Matt. He had trained with him, and despite it not being with his choice weapons, he found his weaknesses in the moments before he swung his weapon. Neil would be much faster now, no longer weighed down by a large sword. Neil knew he would win.

     Matt had nothing but a big grin across his face. He found joy in what he was fighting for, his cause, and to protect Neil.

     Neil picked up his weapons and with Matt taking the first strike, the fight began.

     In training, Matt had moments of intensity, but they were often overshadowed by moments where he would value mistakes and teaching corrections to himself, he never truly challenged his partner to the fullest. Now, Matt was using all of his raw strength and size to fight, at first steamrolling Neil into a low position. Neil occasionally got a few hits to the inside of Matt’s armour and one dangerously close to the sweet spot between his victim’s shoulder and neck, Neil barely pulled back enough in the moment to make a shallow cut. Matt should have ceded the fight, but he was enjoying it too much. Yes he was getting more blunt hits to Neil, but none of the strikes caught Neil before he could dodge them. Neil knew he needed to throw Matt off of his balance, and beat him soon. The panic in his mind from the rush of a fight was beginning to take him over, he was starting to see red.

     Neil took a few quick move, used to disorient his opponents in quick succession to get Matt on the ground, to which Neil Turned Matt on his stomach, Neil holding him there, suddenly his knives where in the front and back of his throat.

     “Stop” Dan ordered.

     Neil dropped his weapons immediately and stepped away. He removed himself from the center of attention as much as he could and watched Matt return to a standing position. All eyes were on Neil.

     Kevin looked shocked by the way Neil had taken down Matt. It was a technique few practiced, only those training in the Moriyama’s Raven Academy knew those moves. Neil had given a part of himself away in the heat of the moment. He also waited for Kevin to accuse him of his real identity in that moment.

Instead, he choked out a cough and looked to Andrew, reading the tension between Neil and Kevin’s eyes. Andrew then cocked his eyebrow at Neil before making his face return to the same bored state.

     “You have successfully declined Boyd’s challenge. Minyard, Walker, do you rescind your challenges?”

     “No,” they both responded in unison.

     Renee smiled wile a hint of amusement sparked in Andrew’s eyes.

     Aaron snapped his fingers to get Andrew’s attention. “Andrew, think carefully about what you are doing. You have enough and have seen what he can do. What is. It about this liar that makes you so intrigued by him? Why are you inclined to take another risk to suffocate with a promise?”

     Neil was taken aback by the confessions he had heard. He then came to realize, his ears were not intended to hear them. The language was not Anglican, it was Germanic in nature and close to the languages his father’s men had spoken and the languages he and his mother had picked up from life on the run. He maintained a neutral expression and saved that knowledge for later.

     “It is not your concern Aaron. You are in violation without admittance of it. Remember you place in this agreement, do not hinder another because of you lack to keep your own.”

     Aaron stepped back as if he had been burned where he stood, scowling at Neil.

     Realizing the twins’ tryst had ended Dan called the group to attention one more time.

     “Walker, Minyard, you are to fight for the protection of out newest member. Pick up your weapons and begin.”

     Until this moment and the one fight Neil had lost to Andrew, Neil had never seen any effort exerted by Andrew for anyone, especially himself when it came to fighting or training. This was not the same Andrew he had seen before. He moved with speeds almost as fast as Neil and despite his short stature, his brawn was in full force in this fight. Renee fought similarly to Neil, her speed was unlike anything Neil had seen, and every move she executed was delicate and calculated, nothing was done out of passion, only out of necessity.

     The fighting was relentless, Andrew’s strength was unmatched, there were moments in training when pushed too far he would even fight back against Kevin, he would be down in seconds. Renee and Andrew had done this before. It was obvious that when Andrew disappeared some days with Renee, both came back battered and bruised.

     In all of the fighting, both had managed to disarm each other and resorted to fist fighting. Both Andrew and Renee had acquired bloody noses and bruises that would surely deepen with the next hour if not minutes to look like someone had tried to kill him. In a way, it looked like it. If it wasn’t for Renee’s smile and Andrew’s smirk, Neil would have expected Dan to call of the fight like she did with him and Matt.

     In a moment, they had broken away from each other to catch their breath and reposition their arms to defend their bruised and bloody faces.

     “Why won’t you give him to me?” Renee asked, under her breath.

     “Because I wouldn’t wish him on a caretaker for the dead,” Andrew spat blood out of his mouth and in the next moment lunged for Renee. She put her hands up in defense instead of initiating a counter attack and was pinned to the ground in moments.

     “Stop” Dan commanded. “Andrew Minyard, you have fought bravely and now have Neil under your care.”

     Everyone applauded as the two fighters rose from their position. The foxes started to divide into smaller subgroups. Matt stood with Seth next to him. Allison and Dan were clustered behind Renee which Neil found odd given that Dan was considered the leader of the group but in this moment chose to fall behind someone else. Kevin, Aaron and Nicky gathered behind Andrew. Neil saw how Matt and Renee’s group stood close together while Andrew’s lot stood off, separate from the others. Neil approached Andrew and fell behind.

     “Very well. See you in the pit” Dan said, a huge smile spreading across her face. Matt let out another booming laugh while Seth cracked a smile. Renee looked at Neil sweetly and Allison rolled he eyes at the enthusiasm, smiling beside herself. Kevin, Nicky and even Aaron slapped Neil on the shoulder in affirmation.

     All at once, everyone except Andrew and Neil started running for the ledge. Neil’s eyes widened in fear, thinking he was watching people run to their deaths. In the blink of an eye, they were gone, all over the ledge. Neil was tense all over, Andrew on the other hand, expecting to have blood on himself, took out a sponge and was nonchalantly wiping his face and arms of the blood that he had caked onto his skin.

     “May I” Neil asked, wanting to distract himself from the bizarre actions he had just witnessed.

     Andrew gave him a bored look but shrugged his shoulders, sat on the ground with his legs crossed. Neil didn’t move, waiting for explicit permission to be given. He had watched for over a month, Andrew violently react or flinch at any unwarranted contact, unwilling to be someone who elicited the same type of reaction he decided to not be the cause of one of Andrew’s triggers.

     “Yes or no Andrew?” Neil pushed.

     Andrew let out an impatient breath to mask the surprise in his eyes, “Yes.”

     Neil sat close in front of Andrew, their knees almost touching and took the sponge from Andrew’s hands and began wiping away the blood.  It took him back to when he and his mother sometimes took fleeting moments to rest, clean up and take care of the wounds they had sustained from running from his father’s men.    

     Neil didn’t want to sink back into his mind and instead focused on the task in front of him and when Andrew looked down, he looked into Andrew’s eyes to anchor him. The sun was setting and the sky was on fire turning Andrew’s hazel eyes to liquid gold, but their expression remained cool. Neil focused on them, confused at how such a cold façade could provide comfort to him. Even after Andrew had no doubt seen the worst of his scars, he did not use it against him.

     “Staring” Andrew stated. Neil chuckled to himself.

     “And?” he challenged?

     “And if you know what’s good for you you’ll stop” Andrew retorted.

     “Make me” Neil persisted.

     Andrew huffed in annoyance again and turned his neck towards the sunset over the ridge. Neil brushed the sponge over the wound at Andrew’s neck. He did not expect a shudder to wrack through his body in response. Neil raised his eyebrows in a challenge for a confession he knew Andrew wouldn’t give.

     “Are you almost done?”

     “Almost.”

     “I’m taking a turn.” He paused waiting for any hint of Neil’s denial, when he received nothing of the kind he continued. “Who do you fight for?”

     Neil didn’t understand the question at first. In a moment he thought the response should be freedom, but freedom was more of an illusion idealists sold to innocent people with no chance in life. He thought for his mother, but he knew if she saw where he was now, Andrew would look like a pristine example of a human compared to the bruises and cuts he would have received from his mother. He thought for himself and survival. A month ago, that would have been true, he had fought to live and nothing else. Now he wanted something to fight for.

     “To be with something other than myself. I want to fight for that” Neil answered. Andrew took that thought and filed it away. Neil already saw Andrew’s mind working to fit another piece into Neil’s puzzle.

     “Finished,” Neil announced.

     They both rose from their spots and stretched for a moment before looking at each other.

     “I need something to go on. I need a truth, give me a truth and I will promise to protect you. You are running from something, and if you don’t give your back to me, you will never get what you want to fight for. Your family is dead, you belong to the Foxes now.”

     “Abram. That is the name not tainted by my father’s.” Neil gave this truth to Andrew and hoped it was for Andrew to keep for himself.

     “Sunset, Abram, Death. These are our truths for the moment. I will protect you, give your back to me.”

     Neil nodded his head in affirmation.

     “Josten. That is your given name. Jo, Latin for with us, and you are the tenth and final member of our company for this fight so ten.”

     “Neil Abram Josten” Neil tested his name on his tongue and liked the way it felt.

     Andrew took out a knife from his wraps and dug the blade into the palm of his hand and held his out. Neil looked at it and then realized he had to do the same. He took the blade Andrew held out to him and drug it across his own palm.

     “Yes or no?” Andrew asked.

     “Yes.” Neil breathed. Andrew took his hand and walked them to the ledge, looking at the horizon, the sun was almost down.

     “Your welcoming party is down in the chasm below. Welcome to the Foxhole Court.” Neil looked down while Andrew continued, “Do you trust me?”

     Neil drew his gaze up to their hands and then to Andrew’s eyes and settled on the only word that came to his mind.

     “Always.”

     Together, they jumped.

    

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> p.s. comments are my kryptonite and if you want to see something developed in the future parts or have any questions, please let me know :) <3  
> also come say hi on my tumblr (@inspired-aspirer) if you want! much love <3


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